


Hey Now, You're an All-Star

by congressmanmabel



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Action/Adventure, Also Incorporating Scenes from Shrek 2, Based on Fan Art, Comedic Violence, Eventual Romance, Fairy Tale Parody, Family Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Shrek AU, Spoilers - Journal 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/congressmanmabel/pseuds/congressmanmabel
Summary: Ford is a reclusive scientist who wants nothing more than to immerse himself in his research at his humble shack in the woods. But the population of Gravity Falls are forced onto his property, Ford and his wisecracking acquaintance Stan negotiate with Lord Cipher, who sends them on a quest to rescue renown mechanic Fiddleford McGucket in exchange for nullifying the policy.





	1. Some-BODY ONCE TOLD ME

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the awesome AU idea by owlpinart and judylavernehopps as well as the amazing fan art by owlpinart and amessicle:
> 
> http://owlapinart.tumblr.com/post/150147298622/owlapinart-me-and-judylavernehopps-were 
> 
> http://amessicle.tumblr.com/post/150454610552/i-kind-of-love-the-shrek-au

_"Once upon a time there was a lovely mechanic. But he had an enchantment upon him of a fearful sort which could only be broken by love's first kiss._

_He was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible man-eating spider. Many brave knights had attempted to free her from this dreadful prison, but none prevailed._

_He waited in the spider’s keep in the highest room of the tallest tower for his true love_ _and true love's first kiss....."_

“Ha! The probability of that ever happening to me are incredibly astronomical!” An elderly scientist scoffed at the fairy tale. He discovered the book just recently in a mysterious cave. Believing it may possess supernatural properties, he decided to conduct some research on the book in his underground laboratory inside his wooden shack. Needless to say, he was disappointed that the book in question was nothing more than a mere collection of classic fairy tales. So decided to dispose of this let-down of a book the best way he knew how:  He ripped the last page of the story clean from the book.    

“What a complete load of -”

Before the man could finish his remark he flushed the toilet, sending the severed page down the drain. He didn’t have time to read childish stories, not when there were mysteries to be solved and fantastical creatures to be discovered.

In the kitchen of his home stood a vending machine chock full of delicious snacks, ranging from _Cheese Boodles_ to _Chipackers_. The machine slammed violently against the wall, revealing an annoyed Stanford ‘Ford’ Pines.

Ford was a brilliant supernatural investigator with twelve PhD’s to his name and a deep admiration for all things weird. He was born with an additional finger on each hand, for which made him an outcast among his peers. With no friend to call his own, Ford found solace in his science fiction novels as well as books revolving around paranormal beings. He also found joy studying as he held a high regard for learning and education. Through his strong work ethic and interest in school, he became a straight A who graduated at the top of his class. Despite getting into an elite university, he was mocked by the other students because of his unusual hands. But Ford utilized his ostracized state as the perfect motivator to work even harder in academics, even managing to receive his Bachelor's Degree a year early and moving onto more advanced studies.  

After achieving his doctorate degree, he decided to become a paranormal researcher, studying strange phenomena in the Oregonian woods. His decision did not sit well with father, who has isolated him since. Ford ventured through the woods of Gravity Fief in his self-imposed exile, and has discovered various supernatural beings and occurrences. In the first five years of his residence in the mystical woods, Ford managed to achieve a source of income by becoming a science teacher at the local high school, using a special five-fingered glove so he could pass off as ‘normal’. He utilized the money from his occupation to build a shack in the woods that housed his underground laboratory used for his research. But one day, a suspicious student took Ford’s glove off and the researcher’s hidden appendage was exposed. Ford retreated into the woods before word had spread, and has remained reclusive ever since. Despite his lack of human contact, Ford found happiness and inspiration through his daily investigations through the woods.

He retrieved his black tattered cape, perfectly matching his turtleneck and pants, as well as his blue goggles. Pulling the hood over his head, Ford stepped outside on the front porch and took in a deep breath. He loved looking out into the fantastical woods that surrounded his humble home, feeling blessed to have found this wonderful location to live out his solitary lifestyle. After absorbing the aesthetically pleasing scenery, Ford shielded his glasses with his blue goggles, hopped off the the porch and walked past the threshold separating his home from the forest. 

* * *

It was early in the afternoon when the six-fingered scientist started to venture down the beaten path towards his humble home. Although he was didn't make any new discoveries in the supernatural woods, he was eager to return to his research on the gnome he kept captive in the basement.

As Ford made a right turn down the trail, he was toppled over to the ground by an unusual force. The scientist regained his senses to discover a man dressed in a sharp black suit and a maroon fez atop his head. Ford noticed the other man’s grey hair and assumed that he was about the same age.

But the classy-looking man frantically pulling him up from the ground. “You gotta hide me man! The fascist Henchmaniac is after me!”

The desperate man was pushed to the side by Ford. He looked at the man's abnormal hands before glancing back at his face. The fez-headed man was aware of the local legends of the 'deformed scientist' what wanders in the woods, but he perceived them as nothing more than lame superstitions conjured up by the local hicks to scare away tourists. Now that the rumor was confirmed true, Stan did not take offense of the scientist's extra appendage nor did he find them repulsive.  

Suddenly, the sound of trampling footsteps was heard and a group of armed guards appeared from the brush. The authorities were unusual-looking geometric entities wearing golden armor and wielding weapons. One of them carried a flag that had a yellow, one-eyed triangle as its emblem. The fugitive froze when he heard the trampling feet of the police and immediately hid behind Ford. Stan immediately hid behind Ford, cowering in fear. The scientist remained still in solemn silence. 

“You there! Six-Fingers!” The grey, square-shaped hollered Henchmaniac approached the two elderly men.

Ford released an aggravated sigh before answering the guardsman.

“Yes?”

The grey monstrosity unfurled a royal parchment and began to speak.  “By the order of Lord Bill Cipher I am authorized to place you both under…” But one look at the intimidating researcher and his unusual set of hands sent shivers down his spine and began to quake in fear. “...a-arrest and transport...y-you...to the….designated….re-s-s-settlement facility.”

“Is that so?” Ford replied with a smirk. He took off his goggles and he cocked his head to the side. “You and what army?”

The top guard turned around only to see a pile of abandoned weapons and shields. He glanced back at Ford, who was still smiling at the creature.

The Henchmaniac emitted a high-pitched shriek before scampering away from the six-fingered man.

Ford stood with his hands on his hips before eliciting a chortle. The grifter slowly released his tight grip off of the other man’s cap and turned to face him. “Whoa, that was really amazing!” The fez-headed man complimented.

Ford slowed his pace when he heard the other man’s praise for his efforts against the guardsman.

“Are you speaking to...me?” Ford turned around only to find nothing but the enormous pine trees. With a simple shrug, he turned himself forward in the hopes of resuming his quest for the supernatural. However, the other man appeared right in front of Ford, causing the investigator to scream.

“Who do you think I was talking to, the Czar of Russia?” The fugitive inquired sarcastically. “Can I just tell you how incredible you were back there? You practically scared the crap outta those military jerks! Seeing those goons tripping over each other like toddlers as they fled in fear from you was a satisfying sight I tell ya!”

Ford was stunned by the onslaught of positive comments he received. “Oh, I bet that was immensely pleasing feeling to have successfully escaped from the clutches of the authorities.”

“You can say that again.” The fez-headed said with a laugh.

“Well, I suppose that’s the end of that. You can leave now if you wish.”

The wanted criminal stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“You can celebrate your liberation with your friends. I see no other reason why you should be wandering around in these parts of the woods.” Ford explained, still continuing on his merry way.

The well-dressed man couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He strode towards the brooding researcher so he could keep up with him. “No way man, we have to stick together!”

Ford was shocked by the other man’s declaration. “But why though?”

“Because we’d make the ultimate dynamic duo!" The stranger answered with enthusiasm. "Look, with your intimidating nature and brain power combined with my cunning nature and muscles, we’d be unstoppable against any and all odds!”

The investigator was confused by the fez-headed man’s offer. “How could I possibly align myself with a person I just met!?”

“Guess friendship makes people do crazy things.” The criminal replied with a fond smile.

“Why are you so fascinated with me!?" Ford asked flabbergasted. "And how could we function as a team if I don’t even know your name."

“The name’s Stanley Pines! But my pals call me Stan!” The criminal tipped his fez while beaming at the scientist.

Ford was in awe of Stan’s introduction. It was a strange coincidence that they shared the same surname, but he decided to give the other man a proper greeting anyhow. “My name’s Stanford Pines, but I prefer to be addressed as Ford.”

“What a coinky-dink, looks like we share the same last name! But in any case, glad to meet ya Ford.” Stan said happily as he stuck out his hand in front of Ford.

The scientist looked down at suit-wearing man’s hand. It was so normal, so mundane. He mused sadly. Ford looked back up at Stan.

“Look Stanley, take a good look at me. What am I?”

Stan gazed brooding man who wore a black tattered cape with matching pants and boots. Blue goggles covered his forehead and bushy grey hair. The stranger looked like a complete dork, but an intimidating dork no less. Stan squinted his eyes at Ford as he formulated his assessment. “Uh...really nerdy?”

Ford groaned in frustration of the man’s clueless nature. “No! I’m a six-fingered freak! Just look at my abnormal hands!” He yelled, showcasing his unique hands centimeters away from Stan’s eyes to illustrate his point. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

The researcher expected Stan to either run away, mock him or shun him. The con man simply stood still, his eyes scanning the paranormal investigator and his hands.

“Nope.” Stan replied with a smile.

Ford stood dumbfounded at the criminal’s response. Never in his life had he come across a person who did not cringe in fear of his unusual hands. He couldn’t wrap his head around the notion that this man simply did not care that his hands were different from that of his fellow man. It was almost too good to be true.

“Really?” Ford asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow with suspicion.

“Really really.”

Ford gazed at Stan, still stupefied of how accepting and cordial the wanted criminal was. Clearing his throat, the serious scientist decided to change the topic. “Very well then, I suppose we should make our way back to the house.” He announced before returning to the trail.  

“This is going to be great!” He cheered, grinning from ear to ear whilst raising his fists in the air. He looked around the woods and noticed a peculiar looking boulder. Stan stopped for a moment to make an observation.

“I like this rock, it almost looks like a face. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if people confused it for a face that looks like a rock.”


	2. Get Outta My Shack!!

Ford and Stan approached a cozy wooden shack that stood in a small clearing in the woods. As Ford marched towards the house, Stan looked at the row of painted warning signs that formed a blockade around the house. These posts ranged from _KEEP AWAY!!_ to highly detailed pictures of a six-fingered hand. Rather than being fearful by these foreboding harbingers, Stan was truly impressed by the engaging artwork.

“Sweet Moses...this is beautiful. I can see this baby framed up in an art museum” Stan spoke with awe.

Ford was stunned when he heard the other man praise his art skills. He turned around to see the fez-headed man still admiring his work on the warning signs. “Oh, well why thank you Stanley.”

“Sure thing Van Gough.” Stan replied. A spontaneous idea then formed in his head. “Hey Ford, do you take in art commissions? Cause I’d really like to have a few sad clown portraits.”

“I’m afraid I’m far too busy to be painting unusually specific works of art.” Ford responded as he opened the front door.

Stan sprinted up to the front porch, catching up to the scientist. Once he took a look inside the house, he was wide-eyed with wonderment as he absorbed the shack’s interior design. It has been a long time since he stepped inside a home, let alone been invited to stay with someone.

“We’re gonna have so much fun!” Stan cheered as he ran towards the armchair and jumped onto the sofa. “We’ll stay up late, recitin’ excerpts from _Gold Chains for Old Men_ , and in the mornin’, I’m makin’ Stancakes!”

“Uh... _Stancakes_?” Ford questioned, wincing as he spoke.

“They’re pancakes, but they have bits of my hair in ‘em.” Stan explained casually as he reclined on the couch.

Ford was admittedly a bit hesitant to let the other man stay with him. It had been a long time since he last had human contact, and wasn’t up to par with appropriate social cues. He didn’t want to scare away the one person who befriended him, but he also had to lay some ground rules. The recluse cleared his throat and obtained the criminal’s attention. “Stanley, you can make yourself comfortable in the shack while I complete some of my more dangerous research on my own. It’s a dark weird road I tread, but it’s something that I must do…” I’ll be back in a few hours to make dinner!”

Stanley got up from the armchair and followed the researcher. “Hey, wait up poindexter!” The con man saw Ford head towards the vending machine, causing him to sprint towards the food inventory.

“Woah, you have a vending machine too!? Man, you must be living like a king!”

“It’s nothing much,” Ford responded...as he entered his secret code, causing the door to open up from behind.

Stan was astonished by the hidden door. “What’s with the secret door?”

“My laboratory is located downstairs, but I need to keep it concealed from any outside intruders. So if you’ll excuse me, I have some research to conduct.”

Stan halted Ford before he could enter through the door. “Wait! Before you head down your nerd lair, I gotta ask you a couple questions.”

Ford turned around with his arms crossed, frowning at the con man.

“First off, can I have a bag of Toffee Peanuts from the vending machine?”

Ford entered the code for the toffee peanuts, causing the snack to fall down into the bottom. The researcher retrieved the bag from the compartment and threw the treat at the criminal. Stan happily opened his bag of sweets and grabbed a handful of Toffee Peanuts before eating them.

“And since you’ll be downstairs, where the heck am I gonna sleep?” He asked as he munched greedily on his snack.

“You’re staying on the armchair Stanley, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.” Ford answered in a serious tone.

“But-”

“What did I just say?”

Stan’s expression turned melancholic, and he sighed. “Alright, I’ll just be sittin’ down, mindin’ my own beeswax then…”

The con man turned around and trudged towards the living room. Ford watched Stan shuffle sadly until he was out of sight. _So much for a warm welcome…_ Ford thought. The researcher exhaled and slammed the vending machine door shut, retreating into his underground work space.

* * *

Late that evening, Ford was contentedly walking upstairs from his laboratory. After finishing his check-up on Shmebulock Sr., he had to deal with the insufferable cycloptopus while writing his entry on the creature in his journal. But perhaps he and Stan could warm up to each other by cooking and sharing a decent meal together. Microwavable Ramen and coffee constituted as an appropriate dinner, right? Before he approached the secret door, he heard sounds of hushed muttering and footsteps.

Curious, Ford opened the vending machine door only to discover a peculiar gathering of strangers in his kitchen. A group of gnomes were playing poker on the dinner table, the Multibear cooking on the stove, some Lilputtians overflowed the kitchen sink and used it as a swimming pool, and a group of teenagers were scavenging through the cabinets for snacks.

The scientists face fumed with anger. “What in the blazes is going on here!?!” He roared. The people and creatures alike were startled by Ford’s presence. “Get out of here, all of you!” He commanded as he wielded his laser gun and the strangers automatically ran towards the exit.

_“STANLEY!!”_ Ford yelled as he stomped towards the living room. “Did you invite all these people he-”

To his surprise, he saw a giant Manotaur wearing a nightgown with a cup of hot chocolate. But most surprising of all was seeing Stanley lounging on the armchair, reading an issue of Gold Chains for Old Men.

“I didn’t do anything.” Stan calmly replied. “I just stayed on this chair like you told me too.”

The scientist was shocked by his acquaintance’s explanation. He didn't know whether Stan was being a smart aleck or was completely honest. The man violently shook his head and turned his attention and righteous anger towards the furry beast. An irate Ford grabbed the Manotaur by the by its horns, dragging him towards the front door.

“I live in a creepy shack in the woods. I placed dozens of warning signs throughout the forest. I'm a terrifying six-fingered scientist! What else do I have to do to get some privacy?”

Opening the front door, Ford threw the man-cow outside. After tossing out the muscular creature, Ford’s senses kicked in and he noticed the loud chatter coming from his front lawn. With one look, he was completely floored by the most unusual sight: A congregation of people and tents were settled just outside the shack. There were families huddling together to keep warm, people attempting to cook over a giant fireplace, and gnomes setting up a clothes line. The sight of humans and supernatural creatures alike all gathered in his front yard confused Ford to no end.

He couldn’t take this madness any longer.

_“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY SHACK!?!”_ His booming voice echoed across the woods. The people camping on his property fell silent.

Ford gave Stan a harsh, accusatory glare. The con man shook his head. “Don't be laying the blame on me Ford, I didn't invite any of these people over.”

“Invited? Seriously?” A young girl with a deep voice interrupted.

“No one was invited over here.” Another girl added, her voice being considerably softer than her friend’s.

“It’s not like any of us wanna be in this dump.” A blonde girl replied sardonically.

“Yeah, we were forced here.” A portly police officer added in a somber tone.

“Forced here...” Ford repeated, his voice softening by the response he was given. “By who?”

“Lord Bill Cipher.” A Lilputtian with a thick German accent answered. “He broke into our homes, rounded us all together, and signed an eviction notice, ja.”

Ford was completely flabbergasted by the hordes of refugees sadly congregating on his lawn. The sight of humans and supernatural creatures alike all gathered in his front yard was tragic now that he was given context to their situation.

Something must be done to give these people the justice they deserve.

Ford walked off the front porch, trying to formulate a plan. He needed to find this Lord Bill at once so he can set things right. The scientist took a deep breath and addressed to the crowd. “Alright, does anyone know where this Lord resides?

“I know he’s at.” Stan announced, stepping closer towards Ford. The scientist was surprised with the con man’s apparent knowledge on the lord’s whereabouts. “He lives over at the Fearamid, but I know all the ins and outs of that place like my highschool sweetheart. If ya know what I'm sayin’” Stan gave the scientist a playful nudge while winking at him. “Plus you’re gonna need an extra set of muscles in case you run into those fascist coppers workin’ for that deranged triangle.”

Ford sighed. “Okay, fine…” He stepped closer to the crowd, but still kept a safe distance as not to frighten them. “Attention all humans and supernatural beings. Do not get comfortable in this section of the woods. You have all officially overstayed your welcome! In fact, I'm going to confront this Cipher fellow immediately. And I’ll see to it that you all can evacuate from my shack and return to your homes safely without interference from that ridiculous tyrant!”

There was a deathly pause that filled the air. Ford felt nervous despite appearing serious and determined. The crowd roared with applause and started to go wild. Ford stood stunned. Never in his life did people cheer for him. The scientist believed it was a nice change of pace.

He grabbed his arm and pulled the con man close to his side “Alright Stanley, I can’t go this alone, so you’re coming with me.”

Stan was ecstatic by Ford’s approval as he was being dragged off from the shack porch and through the jovial crowd. “Oh yeah! Now that’s somethin’ I love to hear! Stan and Ford, two stalwart friends, off on a whirlwind floating-pyramid adventure!”

And with that, the two old men ventured into the dark forest and set off on their journey.

* * *

Towering over Gravity Fief stood the dreaded Fearamid, which housed the tyrannical Lord Cipher. Within the fearsome castle, there was an ominous torture chamber filled with many cruel and unusual weapons. Amidst the instruments of suffering was a man-sized birdcage that imprisoned a chubby ten-year-old boy with ridiculous white hair. The child was dressed in a disgustingly adorable blue suit as he was forced to tap dance to the tune of _‘The Entertainer’_ from a boom box. An obese Henchmaniac wearing a black hood cranked up the volume, causing the boy to cry out in pain as he jigged to the ragtime classic.

There was a sudden burst of blue flames as a golden triangle wearing the dorkiest outfit a tyrant could ever wear; a red velvet tunic with a matching hat, gloves and boots.

“Alright Pacifier, you can take five. I believe our _widdle ol’ friend_ Gideon here is ready to talk.”

“As you wish Lord Cipher.” The Henchmaniac nodded and proceeded to exit the torture chamber.

Lord Bill Cipher floated over towards the tired, suffering child. “I see you’re dancin’ up a sweat, huh _Flashdance_?” Bill bantered.

“You horrible monster!” Gideon shouted, his scarlet cheeks burning with righteous indignation.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Bill said mockingly. Within a moment’s notice, the tyrant frowned as his eye narrowed suspiciously at the boy. “Now, where are those rebels hiding Gideon?”

“I won't talk!” Gideon snapped.

Bill released an exasperated sigh. “You know, for all the fun I have as a powerful overlord, it’s not easy running this place. I’ve been busy trying to expand my power far beyond this dimension. While I’ve been plotting to expand my empire, you humans and benevolent creatures have been protesting my reign. I tried this being nice to you ingrates, but as you freeloaders are overpopulating my kingdom and have been attempting to assassinate me on numerous occasions, my patience is running thin!”

Within a moment’s notice, the tyrant frowned as his form turned red. He reached inside the cage and grabbed Gideon by the coat. “TELL ME! OR I’LL -”

“Not the buttons! Not my shiny coat buttons!”

As Bill retracted his hand from the cage and shoved an overly bright lamp towards Gideon. “Then spit it out! Who’s been hiding them!?”

The chubby boy faltered before hanging his head in defeat. “Alright...I’ll tell you…do you know the flannel man.”

Bill was confused by his captive’s answer, but was no doubt intrigued. “The flannel man?”

“The flannel man.”

Bill nodded fervently. “Yeah, I do know the flannel man...who lives down in L.A.?”

“Well...she’s having extramarital relations with the flannel man.” Gideon confessed.

Bill rubbed his nonexistent chin as he put two and two together. “Of course, she’s having an affair with the flannel man.”

“The flannel man?”

_“THE FLANNEL MAN!!!”_ Gideon dramatically exclaimed.

Bill rubbed his nonexistent chin as he put two and two together. “Of course, she’s having an affair with the flannel man.”

But in the midst of the interrogation, the grey Henchmaniac barged through the doors with the intention of bearing news to his majesty.

“M’Lord...we found it.”

Bill’s eye widened with excitement. “Then what the heck are you waitin’ for Kryptos? Bring ‘er in!”

A tall green Henchmaniac wheeled in the sacred object, hung it on a metal hook and proceeded to tear the white curtain that covered it.

Bill fixed his gaze on a magical mirror that captured the face of a white Axolotl. The creature had a wide head, lidless ebony eyes, and three pairs of red-tipped external gills. The Axolotl was subjectively adorable, tilting its head to the side to inspect the triangle that now holds possession over the mirror.

“That's it…” Bill rubbed his hands together. “Axolo-”

“DON’T TELL HIM ANYTHING!!!” Gideon shouted desperately from his tiny prison. Bill groaned and snapped his fingers, separating the birdcage from the hook it suspended and opening a secret trapdoor in the floorboards. Gideon screamed helplessly as he descended into the underground torture chamber.

Now that the chubby boy was no longer a distraction, Bill resumed his welcoming speech. “Axolotl, I have invoked your presence so that you may answer my biggest inquiry: how can I spread my reign of terror across the multiverse?”

The neotenic salamander gave the three-sided tyrant a nervous gaze. “Well you see, Bill…I’m not entirely sure if you could conceivably handle the truth of my-”

“8-Ball.” Bill commanded with a snap of his fingers. The green creature grabbed a small face mirror and proceeded to take a bite from it. The axolotl let out a terrified squeak while 8-Ball chewed the glass and held the broken mirror.

“You see old-timer,” Bill began to explain. “You serve me now, and I always get what I want. Fail to meet my demands, then you’ll be in an ax-a-lotta pain!”

The being behind the mirror cringed at the terrible pun. Realizing that it was forcefully employed by a ruler with the mind of a frat boy, it gave a long sigh. “Alright...the only way you could possibly travel across dimensions is to build a powerful transuniversal portal.”

“Of course!” Bill shouted victoriously. His excitement was short-lived when he thought of the giant roadblock that's preventing him from total control...

“But I don't know how to build one of those ‘transuniversal portal’ thingies…” Bill turned towards his minions for help. “You guys have any knowledge on advanced engineering?” The Henchmaniacs responded with muttering negative phrases and shaking their heads.

Bill pinched his eyelid before consulting with the mirror. “Axolotl, you think you can hook us up with an intelligent engineer?”

“Actually...I can!” The Axolotl spoke with sudden enthusiasm (hoping that its cheerfulness would prevent him from facing Bill’s wrath). “There’s no need to fear any longer because I have three incredible engineers for you to choose from!”

The Axolotl moved aside, revealing three doors while peppy game show music played from the mirror. Bill and his underlings were immediately fascinated by what the magical being had in store for them.

“Option number one is an abusive and exploitative grandparent residing outside of Seattle, Washington. His inventions include his handy-dandy portal gun and his hovership vehicle. His anti-totalitarian behavior, egotistical nature, and cynical outlook on life cover up his deep-rooted insecurities. And though he may not act like it, he loves his daughter and grandkids. Let’s hear it for Rick Sanchez!”

The door opened to reveal a elderly, blue-haired man in a lab coat taking a swig from his flask while giving the finger. Bill was unimpressed by the scientist. He did not want to work with any human whose narcissism rivaled his own.  

“For Option number you’ll get a two-for-one deal as these engineers are incredible ladies possessing both brains beyond this universe. One’s a polite mom friend with style and grace while the other is an enthusiastic ‘meep-morp’ lover and dedicated fan of _‘Camp Pining Hearts’_. Both women pride themselves in their engineering abilities, building fighting robots, rocket ships, drills and limb-enhancers among other things. They love their friends and are devoted towards making the world a better place. Give it up for Pearl and Peridot!!”

The mirror showcased a picture of a tall, thin, albino woman with pink hair posing alongside a short, green-clad lady with a bizarre tortilla chip-shaped haircut. Bill shook his head in response. He believed that Pearl and Peridot looked too bizarre to take seriously despite their combined intellectual force.

“And finally, option number three is a kind, son of the South gentleman who previously built giant robots, home laptops and can whip up blueprints like desk doodles. A devoted father and dedicated friend, he’s an altruistic fella who’s willing to lend a helping hand. However, this lovely man is currently trapped in the tallest tower of a spider-guarded castle. But don’t let that scare you away. He’s a friendly guy who likes chewing tobacco and playing banjo past eight. Yours for the rescuing, Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.”

The mirror displayed an image of cute looking young man with curly brown hair, glasses resting on his long nose and wearing a tacky green shirt. The man in the picture sat on a rocking chair and cradled his banjo.

The Axolotl’s face appeared back in the mirror. “So which will you choose? Option number one, option number two, or option number three?”

Bill furrowed his brow while contemplating his decision, but he didn’t know who to choose. The Henchmaniacs began to shout out the numbers. Some argued for number three, while others vouched for one or two. While Bill attempted to ponder, he heard a deep, encouraging voice behind him.

“Three. Pick number three m’lord.” Pacifier suggested while holding two fingers.

“Alright, alright!” Bill yelled, quieting the Henchmaniacs. The tyrant turned back to face the mirror. “I’ll pick number three!”

The Axolotl smiled. “Lord Cipher, you’ve chosen Fiddleford McGucket.” As the mirror displayed the image of the southern scientist, a funky pop song by some one-hit wonder loudly played in the background:

_♫I If you like chewing tobacco. Or playing banjo past eight._

_If you’re not into hiking. And would you tolerate_

_My RPG campaigns on midnights... ♫_

The hideous minions began to cheer and congratulate their leader. As the Henchmaniacs continued their applause, Bill stared longingly at the image of the sweet young man he planned to take advantage of.

“Yes, Fiddleford...he’s perfect for the job…”

The Axolotl’s face reappeared. “Although there is a few important things you should know about Fiddleford,”

“Like his shoe size?” Bill joked, rolling his one eye. “Look buddy, I already made my decision, and what I say goes.”

“Of course, but he has a little issue that occurs after sunset-”

_“SHUT UP LIZARD BOY!!!”_ Bill bellowed as he turned red. Once he reverted back to his golden color, he took a deep breath called his underlings for their undivided attention.

“Alright gang, listen up! With Fiddleford as our royally appointed engineer, we’ll be able to take our chaos across infinite dimensions to expand our crazy, eternal house party! But first, we’ll have a tournament, _NO!_ A _battle royale_ to find the perfect sap useful enough to fetch our little four-eyes for us…"


	3. I Don't Give A Damn 'Bout My Bad Reputation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: There is a scene near the end with brief moments of sexual assault and emotional abuse.

After a night of hiking through the woods and a quick morning power nap, Ford and Stan walked through a vacant town of Gravity Fief. All of the barely-standing shops and businesses laid dormant in an unsettling silence. Ford thought of the many citizens who were tossed from their homes and forced onto his property.  _ It’s not right… _ He thought with righteous anger. Even if the majority were to mock him for his birth defect, he still didn’t have the heart to stop and do nothing as they suffered. Plus, Ford wanted to give this Bill character a piece of his mind. 

When Ford and Stan arrived at the vicinity of the gigantic Fearamid. The two old men stopped for a moment’s rest and gazed at the floating architectural nightmare. The triangular castle seemed awfully enormous for one political leader. The very tip of the establishment highly resembled a certain image found in anatomy textbooks...

“So Stanley,” Ford spoke up, giving the fez-headed man a slight nudge. “you think Bill fellow is trying to compensate for something?”

Stan chortled at the scientist’s rique suggestion. “Maybe. Although I personally think it’s more of a reflection of his inflating ego.” 

The con man started to move closer towards the Fearamid. Ford inspected the pyramid only to find the complete absence of any doors or entryways. When Stan walked underneath the demonic estate, Ford began to grow concerned since no strategy was addressed. “So how in Tesla’s name are we going to enter this place anyway?” He questioned as he followed the other man.  

“Leave it to me Sixer, cause Stan’s gotta plan.”

Stan stopped once he and Ford were in the direct center of castle’s underbelly. Just then a turquoise beam surrounded the two old men. Ford was startled by the illuminated light surrounding them, but Stan stood undeterred. 

“What is the password?” A booming feminine voice inquired.

Stan cleared his throat.  _ “Klaatu…..barada…..” _ He nervously snapped his fingers, rapidly forcing himself to remember the rest of the word. Ford became anxious by the thought of Stan messing up the password and the unforeseeable consequences it would bring. Fortunately, Stan’s eyes lit up and a confident grin crossed his face.  _ “Nikto!!” _

“You may proceed to the enter the Fearamid.” The anonymous voice answered, allowing the men access inside the castle. 

Ford and Stan were teleported from the ground and entered inside Fearamid. Once they stepped off of the teleportation circle, the two old men were in awe of the peculiar sight inside the main floor. There were an abundance of small shops selling various Lord Cipher merchandise; vendors displayed Bill T-shirts, Bill plushies, Bill scented candles, and (weirdest of all) Bill body pillows. It was a nightmarish version of Disney World to say the least. But in spite of the several stores in this particular section of the Fearamid, there was not a single other soul to be found. Stan and Ford also noticed the cheerful elevator music, which heavily contrasted the unnerving lack of life in the area.

“You were absolutely right Stanley.” Ford confessed. “This whole establishment is just a giant ego-booster for Lord Cipher.”

“Yeesh, I don’t remember seein’ this eye sore my time here.” Stan muttered, covering his eyes from the mass amounts of Bill products.  

“You were absolutely right Stanley. This whole establishment is just a giant ego-booster for Lord Cipher.” He confessed. “Now if only there were some kind of directory that would lead us this eccentric despot…” Ford pondered aloud, rubbing his chin as he attempted to formulate a plan. 

Stan looked around and discovered a most unusual box of yellow and black. “Maybe this piece of junk will show us the way.” He said as he approached the machine with the word  _ Information  _ labeled on top.

The criminal noted the gold lever attached to the device and impulsively pulled it. Suddenly, the machine started to open its doors, causing Stan to shout and move backwards. He tripped on a small wire and was about to fall, but was caught by Ford before he reached impact on the floor. The two men stood in anxious anticipation of what the machine had in store for them. 

When the doors flew open, a small group of colorful mechanical demons gathered around the interior of the Fearamid started to sing in a chipper fashion:

_ Here’s the Fearamid, Bill Cipher’s domain _

_ It’s the hub of all things weird and insane. _

_ There’s no rules, there’s no class, _

_ If you don’t like it, kiss my.....face. _

_ Fearamid, Fearamid, _

_ Yes the Fearamid is a love-ly plaaace!!! _

Once the song ended, the miniature diorama of the Fearamid retracted back into the box. A bright flash from the machine startled Ford and Stan before printing out a black-and-white Polaroid picture. Stan grabbed the photograph and held it for him and Ford to see. The picture which showcased Stan’s look of terror as well as Ford’s confused expression.

“Now that’s a keeper.” Stan complemented before stowing the picture inside his coat pocket. 

The sound of trumpet fanfare blared into their ears. Ford and Stan looked over towards their left and saw a sign indicating the  _ Royal Battle Royale _ in the nearby arena. 

“Perhaps he’s attending the battle royale.” Ford assumed as he pointed over where the sign stood. 

“Yeah,” Stan agreed. “and if he’s not there, we can always sit back and watch a bunch of random people kill each other in gladiatorial combat.” 

The two men sprinted toward the ungated entrance. The roaring crowd increased as they ran through the battlefield entrance. Stan and Ford saw Lord Bill Cipher perched atop his throne as he gave his speech to the horde of hideous, armor-clad creatures below.

“Rejected Henchmaniacs! You are gathered here by unusual circumstances to gain a second chance in joining the big league! You will battle each other to the death for the once in a lifetime opportunity  to rescue my top engineer from the wretched spider’s keep!” 

Against his better judgement, Ford marched towards where the contestants stood on the battlefield with the intention of speaking with the tyrant. Bill was unaware of the scientist’s entrance as he continued his pre-game presentation.

“If for any reason the winner is unsuccessful, another battle royale will take place to find a replacement, and so on and so forth.” Lord Cipher explained while gesticulating with his gloved hands. “Most of you will die, but it's a sacrifice I’m more than willing to make.” The crowd of weird monstrosities roared with applause. Bill soaked up the praise from the audience with a smug glint in his eye. He stood up from his royal seat and screeched, “LET THE BATTLE ROYALE BEGI-”

But before the fighting could commence, Ford shoved through the participants, some of whom were terrified of the loner’s presence. Stan sprinted through the playing field so he could catch up with his compatriot.

“What is  _ that _ ?” Bill sneered at the unwelcome human. Upon a closer inspection of the man, the lord noticed that he had six fingers on both of his hands. A look of intrigued disgust sparked in Bill’s eye. “Woah! That’s the about the most hideous thing my eye has come across!” He said mockingly.

Clueless to Bill’s insult, Ford simply looked behind at Stan and turned back to the triangle. “That’s not a very polite statement your majesty. Stan’s just a hard-working con man who relies on his charisma.” 

Stan shot an offended frown at Ford. 

“Huh…” Bill muttered. Suddenly the tyrant’s eye widened and he snapped his fingers. “Alright contestants, new objective. First one to murder six-fingers over there wins. Have at him boys!”

Ford and Stan were shocked at the lord’s sudden announcement. They noticed the freakish participants take out their weaponry and steadily advance towards their target. Ford and Stan slowly moved backwards away from their enemies. 

“Okay now, settle down gentlemen, can’t we just mediate the situation through verbal communication?” Ford smiled nervously at the formidable foes. Unfortunately, the contestants were not swayed by the scientist’s rational offer and kept approaching him. The crowd only egged them on to slaughter the human. 

Ford bumped into one of two giant wooden kegs, which were perched on the battlefield for some strange reason. The researcher hastily grabbed a mug from the nearby table and poured himself a nice cold serving of beer. “How about a refreshing pint to ease the tension?” He suggested. The combatants still held their guard. 

Ford shrugged and proceeded to chug the alcoholic beverage within three seconds flat. “Oh well, I can’t say ‘I didn’t try to warn you’.” He sighed. 

Ford used his mug to break the spigot of the gigantic barrel, causing The beer comes rushing out drenching the competition, even killing three of them as they disintegrated from being wet. As the ground was soaked with beer, Ford broke into a sprint and slid through the rejects. He picked up an abandoned spear and began to fight the monstrosities. The scientist’s combat skills were vastly superior from that of the creatures, as Ford easily knocked each of them down one by one. 

While Ford engaged himself in the fight, Stan snuck behind the other beer keg, cutting the ropes that bound it on the stand. As a small group of contestants ran towards Stan, the con man pulled himself up on the first beer keg and pushed the liberated barrell onto the ground. The giant barrel rolled away and ran the few contestants over, squishing them instantly. Bill groaned with great annoyance. No longer wanting to witness the sorry sight of his minions losing the fight, the tyrant facepalmed himself. 

Ford decided to take the fight elsewhere. Scanning the battleground, he decided to use the nearby pony pen as a wrestling ring. The scientist ran towards the pen, causing the ponies inside to hop the fence and gallop away in fear. Ford successfully lured the remaining combatants in the makeshift ring. He managed to grab one of the creatures by the feet and used its body as a hammer throw and knocked down the others in one strong swing. 

Stan arrived at the ring and stood by the corner. “Ooh! Ooh! Tag me! Tag me!” He eagerly called out. Ford grabbed the contestant he used and waltzed towards the corner of the ring. Stan gave the monstrosity in Ford’s hold a strong headbutt. 

The two old men exchanged cheerful smiles, but their celebration was short-lived when they heard the high-pitched battle cry of the last remaining creature. 

“Let me handle this one poindexter.” Stan suggested. He hopped over the ropes, calmly walked towards the final contender and gave it a solid left-hook. Stan gave a satisfied smug when the beast knocked-out after receiving the single punch. The fez-headed man returned by Ford’s side with a bright smile, holding his hand in the air. “High-six?”

Ford grinned at Stan’s offer and immediately obliged the con man with a well-meaning high-six. After the shared gesture, both men were startled by the rounds of applause from the excited crowd. The two responded to the acclaim with tact; Ford took a bow while Stan clasped his hands together, raised them in the air and proceeded to shake them enthusiastically.  

But the good times were brought to a terrifying halt when the guards-maniacs brought their crossbows up and aimed at the two humans. 

“Shall I give the orders Lord Cipher?” A talking pair of teeth questioned to his superior. 

“Shut it Teeth, I have a better idea.” Bill dismissed his Henchmaniac. The diabolical despot stood up from his throne, attracting the crowd’s attention. “My fellow weirdos! I give to you, our champion!!” 

The massive audience cheered the humans once more. Ford and Stan exchanged confused looks before turning their wary eyes at the oppressor. 

“Congratulations, six-fingers!” Lord Cipher applauded. “You’ve won the honor of embarking on a great and noble quest!”   
  
“Quest? I'm already in a quest, a quest to grant the people you dumped their homes and to get my shack back!” Ford proclaimed   


“Your shack?” Bill scoffed, crossing his arms. 

“Yes, my shack! Where I’m supposed to live in a blissful state of solitude!”    


Bill narrowed his eye at the scientist and pondered to himself. “I see... All right, Sixer, I'm willing to make a deal with you: Go on this quest for me and give me my prize, and I'll give the humans their homes and give you your shack back.”  
  
“Exactly the way it was?” Ford inquired skeptically, raising a bushy brow. 

“Down to the last moss-covered roof shingle.” The tyrant insisted. 

“And the people you’ve kicked out your kingdom?”   
  
“Oh, they’ll return to their homes without damaging your precious little property.” Bill reassured in a laid-back tone as he waved a dismissive hand. The triangle got up from his seat and floated downwards towards the arena before landing in close proximity to Stan and Ford. The lord’s eye enlarged itself. “All you gotta do is fetch me Fiddleford, my royally appointed engineer, from the spider’s keep and bring him back to the Fearamid. Only then will I give those humans their homes back and you can return to your lonely little shack in the woods.” 

Ford and Stan stood as they watched the series of images that correlated with Bill’s explanation flash by. The leader pulled the red glove from his right hand without hesitation. “How about we shake on it?” He asked, his extended hand now immersed with blue flames.

Stan glared at the despot’s hand with deep skepticism. As a professional con man, he knew every trick that triangle had up its sleeve. “I’m not sure this is the best way to go about this Ford.” He warned. Ford, however, ignored Stan’s admonition and approached the tyrant with no trace of fear. “It’s a deal.”

The scientist took his six-fingered hand and clasped it into Bill’s grip. With one solid shake, the ember surrounded their hands, thus sealing pact.

* * *

Ford and Stan began their quest as they strolled through the field of onions. The scientist collected a handful of onions as a snack on-the-go since it was going to be a long mission.

Stan happily walked beside the tired investigator. “Hey Ford, wanna hear another joke?”

“I’d rather not-”

“Too late!” Stan joyfully interrupted. “Here goes: So my ex-wife still misses me….. _ but her aim is gettin’ better! _ ”

The con man grinned and gestured his arms as he delivered the punchline. Ford was unamused. As the awkward silence filled the atmosphere, Stan decided to emphasize his joke. “ _ Her aim is getti- _ ”

“I understand the gist of the quip Stanley.” Ford complained, before taking a bite into his onion.  

Stan stood dumbfounded by Ford’s irritability and overly-serious attitude. “I don't get it poindexter…why are you actin’ like a complete grump all of a sudden?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that I have to play the role a delivery boy for an abominable autocrat would have something to do with it?” Ford disparaged. “It’s a terrible favor indeed, but I must restore tranquility to my shack. But what other choice did I have?”

“Then why don't you just pull some of that mad scientist stuff on him?” Stan suggested. “Ya know, build a giant robot, construct a death ray, the whole nine yards?”

“Oh, I formulated an even better strategy.” Ford said, feigning enthusiasm. “Perhaps I could summon an army of reanimated corpses to do my bidding, lay siege on the Fearamid, and I’ll sit back and relax as I watch my zombie military feast on the flesh of mine enemies. Now does that sound wonderful to you Stanley?”

Stan stood puzzling Ford’s sarcastic response. “No, not really...actually that’s sounds grotesque the more I think about it.”   
  
“My point exactly.” Ford said bitterly. “Though I don’t blame you for possessing such a prejudiced, borderline fearful view on the members of the scientific community. Many people have for centuries and I don’t see it coming to an end anytime soon. But I must inform that there are more to scientists than people would assume.” 

“Such as?” Stan asked in a playful tone.

“You want an example?” Ford inquired. He looked toward his hand to see a half-eaten onion.  _ The perfect analogy that anyone, even the snarkiest of con men, would comprehend _ . The scientist mused. “Here!” Ford held out the onion in front of Stan’s face. He continued his dramatic explanation. “Stanley, scientists are like onions…” 

“They stink?” Stan deadpanned with a sour expression.

“What? No no no!”

“They make you cry?” Stan teased.  

“No-”

“You leave them in the sun, they get all brown, start sproutin' little white hairs.” Stan answered. “I mean your hair is already proof of that alone.” He smirked as he lightly tapped the tip of the scientist’s floofy hair. 

  
“No! Layers!” Ford shouted, expressing his aggravation towards Stan’s ignorance. He threw the eaten onion on the ground out of anger. “Onions have layers. Scientists have layers! Onions have layers. You get it? We both have layers.” The reclusive man took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing on his walk through the crops.

Stan trailed after Ford. “Oh, you both have layers. You’ve opened my eyes Sixer.” He replied. His eyes gazed over at the chewed-up onion and he cringed in disgust. “But not everybody likes onions…” He mused aloud. A few seconds later, his face lit up with delight upon thinking of a lovelier analogy. “How about cake!? Everybody loves cakes and those have layers!”   


Ford groaned vexedly. “Stanley, I don't care what everyone else likes. Scientists are _not_ like cakes.”  
  
“Well...what about parfaits?” Stan offered, hoping to no longer deepen Ford’s annoyance. “A lotta people I know loves a good parfait every now and again-”    
  
“No! You dense, suffocating, immature criminal!” Ford roared. His face tensed with seething rage. “Scientists aren’t like cakes, and they’re certainly not like parfaits! _Scientists are like onions!_ End of story. Good-bye.” He leaned uncomfortably close to Stan, no doubt invading the man’s personal space, before whispering: “See you later.”  


Stan stood terrified of Ford’s rant. As Ford walked a good few feet ahead of him, his face shifted into his usual, laid-back self like it was nothing. “I’m sorry for messin’ with ya Ford. So scientists are like onions as opposed to cakes and parfaits. But, unlike onions, parfaits may be the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet. Sure they’re no Toffee Peanuts, but they’re a close second. We should go out for some once we return from the mission!”

Ford shook his head at Stan’s apparent clueless behavior. Perhaps the con man was only trying to brighten the mood. But he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone as accepting of his abnormalities as Stan was unable not understand that appearances do not make up the whole of a human being.   

"You know, I much prefer to hear your corny jokes right about now…"

 

* * *

High atop the tallest tower, the melancholic strums of a banjo echoed throughout the castle as a forlorn man played his instrument. Piles of inventions, toolbox, and blueprints littered his bedroom. Despite being held captive, Fiddleford Hadron McGucket found many ways to occupy himself.

As the brown-haired man played, A scruffy little raccoon carrying two boxes of pizza appeared on the window-sill and crawled inside. Fiddleford noticed the critter’s presence and stashed his banjo away. “Howdy Raccoon Wife! I can’t thank ya enough for bringin’ the pizza over here!” He greeted as he untied the black belt from the animal’s back and retrieved the pizza boxes.

“I had a pretty normal day myself.” Fiddelford spoke to the raccoon as he placed one pizza box on his lap. “I managed to finish up that giant, floatin’ baby seat I told ya about earlier. Oh! An’ I whipped up some more doodles!” Fiddleford grabbed a blueprint on his desk and revealed an intricate design for a giant robotic house. Raccoon Wife sniffed the paper and gave her approval by nestling her head against his leg.

Fiddleford smiled sweetly at the raccoon. “Ya know, I’m real lucky ta have a kind lady such as yourself to keep me company.” He cooed at his cuddly friend. Opening up the pizza box, the young mechanic was ready to dig into his first slice.

But his bedroom door slammed open out of the blue, revealing an attractive woman leaning on the entryway. She had bleach-blonde hair, overly tanned skin, and wore a sensually stimulating pink bathrobe that barely covered her thighs.

“Oh, hello Darlene…” Fiddleford muttered, closing the pizza box and tossing it on his desk.  

“Now is that how you greet the mistress of this castle?” She drawled, giving the engineer an offended pout. “Honestly honey, I thought you southern gentlemen were the creme of the crop when it comes to politeness.”  

“Now don’t you honey me!” Fiddleford huffed and turned his back towards her. The engineer was fully aware that underneath his captor’s ditzy facade was her cunning nature and unbelievable physical strength. “I know your wicked ways of deception, so don’t take me as some kinda fool.”

She laughed at his rejection of her advances. She noticed the pizza boxes lying on his work desk and snorted. “Now why are you eatin’ this unappetizing pizza anyways? Don’t you ever appreciate the food I cooked up in the kitchen?”

He knew that she preyed on the brave humans that attempted to rescue him. But as of now, all of them were wrapped around her finger and were killed as a result. It also didn’t help that she had a tendency to dine on the flesh of men.

“You know that I’m no cannibal Darlene.” Fiddleford shot back.

Darlene ignored Fiddleford’s disgusted comment. She gracefully waltzed toward the poor man and playfully curled her fingers on his shoulder. “Don’t act so shy around me Fiddles.” She whispered playfully into his ear.

“Stop it Darlene.” Fiddleford protested, knowing that she was putting on her act again.

His imploration was swept under the carpet the woman slowly slid her hand down his back. “No man has ever resisted my charming ways...not even in the bedroom.” Her hand sneaked underneath Fiddleford’s pants and underwear. She gripped her hand on his bottom, giving it a tight squeeze.

“I SAID STOP IT!!” Fiddleford shouted, feeling violated that she had invaded his personal space once again. He instinctively turned around, causing her hand to retract, and he backed away from his captor.

“Okay I will.” She spat, giving him a look of disgust. “But I’ll let you know that you belong to me boy! And there ain’t nobody in this whole damn world that’s gonna love you better than I do!” She stormed out of the room and slammed his door shut.   

After the blonde retreated, Fiddleford sat down on his mattress in silence. His knee bounced at a rapid rate. He found that his voice was caught in his throat and he was unable to utter a single word for a long while. Everytime she barged into this room, pretending to fawn over him, it always ended the same way: She taunted him while he was left defiled and humiliated.

_ This has been goin’ on for too long. _ Fiddleford mused sorrowfully.  _ Why did I have to receive that lousy, no-good spell? _

Once the shock wore off, he glanced over to his desk at the hinged picture frame containing two special photographs. The southerner got up, grabbed the protected pictures and returned to sit on his bed. Fiddleford inspected the snapshots with sad fondness. The picture on the right was of his wife and son, Tate. His wife had short curly hair while his son had bushy brown hair, his bangs shielding his eyes. The mother and child stood close together and wore bright smiles. He slowly moved his eyes towards the photo on the left. Tate wore a baseball glove, clutching onto the baseball since he played a game of catch with his father. Fiddleford had a loving arm wrapped around his son as two of them beamed at the camera.  

Tears started to stream down Fiddleford’s face. It had been thirty years since he last saw his family and he was fully aware that the chances of returning to them were beyond astronomical. And he couldn’t see them again unless the spell was to be broken. He screwed his eyes shut and clung the pictures to his chest, holding onto them for dear life.

Raccoon Wife hopped onto the bed and rested on Fiddleford’s lap in the hopes of comforting the man. Grateful for the animal’s empathy, Fiddleford scooped up the raccoon in on arm and gave her a tender hug. 


	4. So Much To Do, So Much To See

Ford and Stan marched beyond the outskirts of civilization and through the wilderness for the past two days before reaching their destination. The two old men engaged in some casual banter as they climbed the volcanic hillside.

Stan inhaled the sulfuric air through his nose before scrunching his face in disgust. “Ugh!” He grimaced. “What the heck is this stench.”

“Brimstone…” Ford answered in a serious tone. “We must be getting closer…”

The two men finally reached up the top of the mountain to see an ominous castle surrounded by boiling hot lava. The only way to reach the castle grounds was a worn-out bridge comprised of wood and rope. Stan was petrified by the foreboding sight. Ford, however, was not phased by the perilous environment.

“Hey Stanley, you think that a lava people come here often?” He laughed heartily as he lightly nudged a fearful Stan. Upon realizing that his efforts to lighten the mood had failed, Ford’s chuckles transformed into a groan.

The two old men descended from atop the hillside and approached the bridge. Ford was the first to step foot on the ramshackle structure and started his walk without hesitation. Stan, however, was very anxious over the idea of crossing the dilapidated bridge, but nervously trailed Ford’s footsteps.  

As the duo started their perilous walk across the bridge, Stan decided to make a confession to Ford. “Hey poindexter, remember the time you ranted on about how scientists have layers?”

“I do.”

“Well, ya see,” Stan spoke with apprehension, “it seems that scientists and con artists have more in common than people realize.”

“Oh, is that so?” Ford piqued bemusedly.

“Yeah. Despite our cunning nature and charismatic personalities, we tend to hide our fear right up our sleeves.” The nervous criminal explained. 

Ford took what Stan stated into consideration and immediately understood what the conman was trying to convey. “Now does this have anything to do with your acrophobia?”

“What!? No way.” Stan chuckled nervously, denying the researcher’s assumption. “I ain’t afraid of no heights. I’m just utterly terrified of walking across a barely functioning bridge over a boiling pool of lava!!”

Ford turned around and his face softened upon seeing how afraid Stan really was. The fez-headed man’s legs quivered as he stared into the fiery abyss that latched onto the support ropes for dear life. His heart went out to his frightened friend who needed reassurance.

“Come on Stanley, you know I’m here to provide you with emotional support. We can conquer this task together, one step at a time.”

“Really?” Stan asked, still feeling apprehensive.

“Really really.” Ford answered with a soft smile.

In that instant, Stan’s fear began to dissipate and his confidence soon took hold. He flashed a determined smile at Ford. “Alright, I can do this.”

Ford’s heart soared at the sight of his companion regaining his valor. He just needed to assist the con man across the bridge so they can raid the spider’s keep and search for the engineer. The paranormal investigator still stared at Stan as they resumed their trek. “Just remember, take small steps and don’t look down.” Ford calmly instructed.

“Right. Don’t look down, don’t look down,” Stan reiterated, transforming Ford’s advice into a mantra. Ford still kept his eyes on Stanley while the con man continued to mutter scientist’s soothing words repeating in his mind greatly assisted his walk across the fragile bridge. As they crossed the treacherous bridge, Stan’s confidence was slowly rising with each step.

“Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t loo-”

But as he felt the wooden board snap below his foot, Stan hobbled backwards and became terrified as he watched the pieces of wood fall into the lake of lava.

 _“I’M LOOKING DOWN FORD!!”_ Stan yelped with fear. _“I CAN’T DO THIS ANY LONGER! SWEET MOSES, LET ME OFF OF THIS RIDE!!!”_

“Stanley! You’re already half-way across, you’re doing great!” Ford informed, wanting to motivate his compatriot to continue. “Please look at me! Look into my eyes!”

“Nice try Sixer, but I’m not falling for your tricks!” Stan fearfully spat in return.

Ford stood still. If he couldn’t convince Stan to come with him, then there was one other option left on the table.“Fine, If you’re so scared, you can go back by the entrance and wait until I return.”

Stan’s eyes widened with anxiety. It’s been so long since he found someone who considered him a friend. There was no way Stan would allow the chance to form a meaningful friendship with Ford slip through his fingers.

“No, wait! You can’t leave me alone!”

“So you don’t want to be alone?” Ford asked playfully. “Alright then, let’s tango!” The scientist grabbed Stanley and hoisted him up in the air, causing him to scream in terror. Ford placed the con man a few steps ahead of him and proceeded to skip gleefully a few bounds past his friend. The scientist deviously decided to swing the bridge side to side in an effort to motivate Stanley to chase him.  

“Don’t do this to me Ford!” Stan begged desperately, running towards the researcher. “Don’t do that!”

“What’s that? You want me to do that again?” Ford bantered, placing his hand near his ear as to pretend that he can’t hear Stan’s plea.

Stan ran closer to Ford. “Yes that!” He realized his poor word choice and shook his head. “I mean no!”

“Too late!” Ford replied, exerting his strength once more to sway the bridge.

“Oh man, we’re gonna die!” Stanley shouted as he chased Ford. “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna-”

But Stan felt his foot step on solid ground. The con man looked down to see that he, in fact, crossed the bridge without issue...well, with the exception to his emotional breakdown. Stan looked up at Ford, who gave him a smug smile.

“That’ll do Stanley.” Ford said fondly, patting Stan’s cheek. “That’ll do.”

Stan’s face reddened upon realizing how frightened he had been back on the bridge. He soon noticed Ford had began to stride towards the castle and immediately sprinted to catch up with him.  

It took them a few minutes until they approached the already settled drawbridge of the deserted castle. The two old men gazed at the ominous spider’s keep, taking in the enormous size of the estate. Ford took off his comfortable work gloves and retrieved his five-fingered gloves from his coat pocket. Upon shoving his hands into the tight gloves. He looked to his hands as he curled his fingers. Despite the gloves suffocating four of his twelve fingers, it was necessary to disguise his abnormality. The last thing he wanted was to frighten and/or disgust the engineer he was supposed to be saving. 

“So what's the next step Ford?” Stan asked aloud, unintentionally snapping his friend out of his train of thought. 

Ford quickly composed himself before answering his companion's inquiry. “Well, we siege the castle and look for Bill’s engineer of course.”

Stanley dramatically drew his hands out towards the castle as he addressed Ford. “Ladies first.” He smirked. Ford raised an eyebrow and playfully punched Stan’s arm before walking. But the con man chuckled and returned the gesture to Ford, who also laughed as they walked across the drawbridge.

The two entered inside the abandoned abode and laid their eyes on an empty common room that was in near darkness, with the exception of the two torches that sat near the doorway. The room’s interior design was a bizarre mix of Rococo and Gothic elements. There were a few pieces of expensive furniture, large portraits that were covered with dust and cobwebs, an abundance of sculptured saints, two hallways from the east and west wings and a large stone stairwell in the middle of the area.

Stan and Ford took the torches from their holders and carefully walked around the room. Ford’s mind raced, quickly formulating a plan to successfully rescue the engineer. But as he pondered, his mind drifted back to a familiar story he once deemed as childish. The lovely mechanic trapped in the highest room of the tallest tower.

“I’ve got it!” Ford proclaimed joyfully, raising his hands in the air.

Stan was caught off guard by the scientist’s sudden burst of cheerfulness and flinched away. The con man felt a burning sensation atop his maroon fez and immediately realized that his hat was on fire, thanks in part to Ford. A startled Stan took off his beloved cap and stamped on it to extinguish the small flames. Once the fire was out Stan frowned at Ford, who, in response, gave a sheepish grin. The con man thrusted his torch onto the researcher’s free hand before grabbing his crumpled fez from the ground. After fixing his precious fez, Stan carefully placed the hat back to its rightful spot and harshly retrieved his torch from Ford

“What got you so excited Sixer?” Stan asked gruffly.

“The engineer, he’s located up in the highest room in the tallest tower! We’ll rescue him in no time if we just climb up these stairs an-”

“Oh no, I’m not goin’ up there.” Stan interrupted. “There’s no way I’m riskin’ my life again doin’ any more stunts that involve heights.” He crossed his arms and put his foot down as he stared defiantly at his pal.

 _Stanley had a point._ Ford thought. The scientist didn’t want to do anything that would drastically ruin the rescue mission, so he thought of a perfect compromise.

“Alright, I’ve thought of a better idea. I’ll climb up the stairs and retrieve the mechanic while you stay where you are.” He gesticulated with his free hand. “And please, for the love of Tesla, don’t go wandering around the castle beyond this room. Do I make myself clear?”

“Got it.” Stan answered, giving him the okay sign.

Ford nodded before he checked his gloves to see if they were secure. He silently hoped that the engineer would not take notice of his unusual hands. The scientist then proceeded to pull the goggles over his eyes and wrap his tattered scarf around his face.

“Alright, then it’s settled.” Ford said, giving the con man a determined smile. The scientist placed his goggles over his eyes, wrapped his tattered scarf around his face and pulled his hood over his head. He gave Stan a salute before rushing up the stairs.

“Bye Poindexter, have fun storming the castle!” Stan called out playfully as he daintily waved him farewell. Once the investigator was out of sight, the fez-headed man spotted a red velvet loveseat with his name on it and decided to veg out while Ford was playing ‘hero’. Stan’s joints ached as he settled his bottom on the comfortable couch, but his backside was in relief upon feeling the soft texture of the sofa.

“Well it’s too comfortable to go exploring around the castle. Waiting around should be a piece of cake…” Stan sighed contentedly. He shifted into a more comfortable position on the sofa and closed his eyes, hoping to take a quick nap to calm his nerves.

“Well hello there stranger.” A feminine voice called.

Stan’s eyes shot open as he bolted up from the couch. He turned to find the most unusual of sights: an attractive blonde woman, wearing a seductive red satin nightgown who stood by the entrance of the east wing, holding a candelabra in her delicate hands. If Stan’s poor eyesight was not deceiving him, the lady appeared to be beckoning him with her sultry smile and lustful gaze.

“I hope I didn’t startle you.” She cooed. The mistress shrugged the nightgown from her shoulder, beckoning the man to approach her.

 _You hit the jackpot Stan._ The con man thought excitedly.

Stan straightened out the wrinkles in his suit and wiped off the dust from his shoulders before casually waltzing towards the enticing woman. “Well hello there beautiful!” Stan greeted, hoping his charisma had shone through despite his gravelly voice.

“I’m Darlene, and what might your name be handsome?”

“The name’s Stan.” He answered with a flashy smile. _Are my teeth sparkling?_ He thought nervously. _I haven’t brushed them in a while, and I’m really hopin’ she’s buyin’ it._

Darlene chuckled and smiled at the fez-headed man. “Well Stan, now that you came into my humble abode, how would you like to make yourself comfortable in my room and the two of us can have a good time together?”

_Welp, she bought it!_

“Of course!” Stan replied with a grin. In an attempt to appear more gentleman-like, he extended his arm out for her to hold. “May I escort you then m’lady?”

Darlene laughed in delight as she took the offered arm. “Oh, you are so chivalrous.”

“And they said chivalry is dead.” Stan joked before laughing with her.

Darlene guffawed at con man’s humorous comment, discreetly hiding her own personal agenda.

_Well Stan, chivalry is dead and you will be too..._

* * *

Up in the highest room, Fiddleford sat on his bed with Racoon Wife on his lap as the two watched some anime on the makeshift television set. The mechanic was engrossed in the adventures of an anthropomorphic banjo who was forced against its to pilot a giant mech and battle off monsters to protect mankind.

“Even after watchin’ this show thirty-seven times, I still feel his pain…” Fiddleford gushed aloud.

He patiently awaited for the show’s ending theme to conclude, but the sound of footsteps ascending the stairwell startled him. Fiddleford knew that they were too loud to be Darlene’s, so that would mean…

“My knight in shinin’ armor his here!” He gasped. McGucket felt the waves of excitement rush through his body as he grinned. He picked up his beloved raccoon and joyfully spun her around, laughing as he celebrated with his pet.

However, the opening theme of the anime broke Fiddleford’s moment of bliss.

“Oh no, he can’t see my odd interests!!” He shrieked. “I can’t allow my rescuer to think ill of me!”

Within seconds, Fiddleford hastily turned off the television and began to clean up his room. He shoved all of his anime VHS tapes underneath his bureau, took the pile of pizza boxes and pushed them into his closet. He even made the effort to tear down the multitude of boy band posters that covered the walls.

Once the southerner purged his room of his guilty pleasures, he took out his backpack and began to pack up his precious belongings. He stowed away the pictures of his family, all of his blueprints, a first-aid kit, his tools, some spare clothes, and his banjo.

McGucket noticed a few of his recently completed inventions on his desk; his small-boy mech that can change size via remote, his DNA scanner, and his memory gun. The mechanic gathered the three gizmos and placed them into his backpack.

The footsteps were getting louder and louder with each passing second.

Fiddleford leaped onto his bed, grabbed the bouquet of sunflowers from under his pillow and settled himself into his sleeping position. It was hard for him to contain his excitement, but he managed to remain still and keep the flowers in his grasp.

Moments later, the door swung open and hit the wall. The engineer couldn’t help but smile at his rescuer’s arrival. The room was filled with a pregnant pause before soft footsteps could be heard. _This is it…_ Fiddleford cheerfully mused. _Love’s first kiss!_

“Wake up man!” A worried baritone muffled. Fiddleford’s liberator grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him awake, causing him to scream fearfully. His rescuer noticed McGucket’s alarm and gently placed him back onto his bed.

Fiddleford stared in awe at the stranger before him. He saw what appeared to be a man below average height wearing goggles and dark clothing. The southerner blushed at his mysterious savior.

“Do not be afraid.” The masked man calmly stated. “I have but one question to ask: are you an engineer by the name of Fiddleford?”

“Why yes, my name is Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.” He answered smilingly.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Fiddleford hesitated to respond, but the rescuer picked him up and started to leave the bedroom. “Hold the hootenanny,” McGucket shouted, causing the rescuer to halt in his tracks. “This is our first meetin’, don’t you reckon’ it should be a bit more...meaningful?”

“No. We don’t have time for proper introductions.” The man responded brusquely.

“Well could I at least grab my backpack first?” Fiddleford snapped. “I’ve been trapped in this here castle for an awfully long time, an’ I’ve already packed my belongins up on the off-chance that I’d be rescued.”

The cloaked stranger gently placed Fiddleford back on his feet. Even behind the goggles and scarf, the southerner could tell how guilty his liberator must feel. “Of course...and I apologize for this less-than-stellar introduction.”

Fiddleford stared at the disguised rescuer. The engineer was able to detect the sincerity behind the man's blue goggles and tattered scarf. “Aw hush, I understand wantin’ to get out of here as quickly as possible.” Fiddleford responded casually. He swiftly grabbed his backpack and returned to the bedroom entrance. Once he returned to his savior’s side, he remembered something he had wanted to ask the stranger.   

“Oh! I didn’t catch your name.”

The black-clad man hid his hands behind his back as he approached Fiddleford. “I’m Stanford Pines. Paranormal researcher and scientist who currently possesses twelve PhD.'s. But please call me Ford.”

Fiddleford smiled. “Well Ford, I'm truly glad to be in your presence!”

Behind his black scarf, the scientist smiled back. “Likewise Fiddleford.”

The sweet moment was brought to an abrupt halt when Ford suddenly thought of the mission. He swiftly swept Fiddleford off of his feet, guarding him in his protective hold. Needless to say, the engineer was quite shocked to be picked up and carried in the strong arms of his rescuer.

“What are ya doin’ Ford?!” He blurted.

“We have to get you out of this abysmal prison.” The paranormal investigator bluntly answered.

“We?” The southerner reiterated in a confused tone.

“I brought an accomplice.” Ford explained. “He’s currently keeping watch on the ground floor, just in case any other intruders stop by.” Although Ford knew that Stan was most likely lazing about on the couch.

“But what about Darlene?” Fiddleford inquired. Ford stared quizzically at him in response, but the engineer continued on. “She’s a powerful witch who’s able to transform into a giant man-eatin’ spider. She’s been keepin’ me an’ another prisoner hostage for quite sometime now.”

“And you won't need to fret any longer Fiddleford. I’ve brought my laser gun and crossbow in case we run into any kind of obstacle.” Ford reassured him. "I'm no stranger to the supernatural and I'm certain that this spider woman is no match for my superior wit and state-of-the-art weaponry!"

Despite his words, the paranormal investigator noticed that the mechanic was still in distress. Ford had silently hoped that it was only the spider he was worrying about, and not that he secretly discovered his abnormality. In an effort to further comfort Fiddleford, Ford kept the southerner closer to his chest as he began to descend down the tower stairs.

Fiddleford, in response, wrapped his arms around Ford to prop himself up in the researcher's hold. He looked at awe into Ford’s goggles as his cheeks turned pink.

_If we manage to escape this wretched castle, perhaps Ford may be able to assist me in breakin' the spell...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late update! School has been driving me up the wall, but as of now I'm more than halfway complete with my semester. I can't make any promises as to when chapter five will be uploaded, but I'm hoping to get it done sometime in early December. 
> 
> Thank you for all who are following this silly, but fun story and take care!

**Author's Note:**

> Note: For this story, Stan and Ford were separated at birth and they meet for the first time (their backstory will come into play in later chapters)


End file.
